There are bands that switch genres, and then there are bands that tear the whole map apart. Carrion Sky landed firmly in the second category. Born from the bones of Major Kong and Black Tundra, the Warsaw trio came together because the old projects simply couldn’t hold all the ideas bubbling under the surface. As the band tell it, “we had been playing in our former bands, but there was not enough space for what we would also like to play, ambient, kraut, drone and even techno. We formed this band with one assumption, we do not say no to ideas”.
The band treat this freedom not as chaos but as direction, a principle that guides every decision they make. That spirit became their compass. Their debut album leans heavily on guitars, but they already speak of it as a doorway, not a chapter closer. “Our first short LP is just a glimpse of what we want to do, just a part”, they explain. “We would like to make records that circle around certain ideas. It will not be the same for other records”.
That sense of openness bleeds directly into how they define themselves as a group. From the start, their identity wasn’t something to search for, it was something to protect. They describe it with unusual clarity, “our identity is constant development […] and we try not to focus on one path anyhow”. Which, translated into band-speak, means any sound is fair game as long as it challenges them.
Their writing sessions start as open-ended jams, sometimes collapsing into ambient fog, sometimes into hostile, serrated drones. From there, they pry out moments of tension and contrast. “We try to find a spot of balance between ingredients not easy to combine”, they say, “softness and beautiful melodies with harsh beats or guitar works”.
Those contrasts eventually transform into something distinctly theirs, into a a sound that wants to destabilise you before it welcomes you. As they put it with a grin, “we want them to think what the fuck”. But once the shock wears off, a more emotional mission emerges. “We would love to make people’s minds open for a mixture of brutality and fragility, of melancholy and optimism”.
For the band themselves, the music is something closer to medicine. Marcin speaks of those moments on stage where everything clicks: “When I can scream while playing a touching melody, it makes every problem feel like it is worth nothing. That moment makes me bigger than everyday worries and anxiety”.
That emotional honesty only works because the players trust each other completely. Marcin and Dave’s musical bond dates back to 2016, but Zmarlak’s arrival completed the circuit. Trio line-ups can be brutal, there’s nowhere to hide and no one to cover your mistakes, but the chemistry snapped together fast. “What surprised us was not skill, but whether the musicians would get along”, they admit. “But it clicked. In a trio every problem is heard immediately, and we complement each other”.
Their curiosity also spills into the technical side of the band, with their gear journey mirroring the experimental nature of their music. All three stepped away from comfort zones to incorporate synths into their sound. Marcin laughs about the process: “We wanted to introduce something new to our style, so we started playing synths. We are still learning to play keys, but the hardest part was figuring out what gear to use”. After months of trial and error he found a setup that felt honest: “a simple Arturia synth with fuzz and reverb”.
Zmarlak went deeper into the electronic side with two monosynths and a groovebox, while Dave delivers the guitar firepower with a Gibson Les Paul through a Laney GL100, pushed by a Life Pedal and washed in Slö reverb.
It took them a year to get their musical arsenal right. But once everything fell into place, the band finally started sounding like themselves.
You can hear those experiments reflected in the wide spread of influences they draw from, inspirations coming from what feel like three different galaxies. Dave thrives on the grotesque and uncanny, “copious unhealthy amounts of horror movies and books”, while Zmarlak burrows into dark minimal techno and the physics of the universe, fascinated by “space, black holes and the laws of the universe”. Marcin, meanwhile, draws from psychological discomfort and confrontation, “the essence is the movie Funny Games […] all the Haneke films are welcome, along with Gaspar Noe”.
Put all of this together and the music starts to make sense. It’s heavy but vulnerable, harsh but human, grounded but cosmic. A collision of three minds looking in three different directions, somehow landing in the same room.
And while their artistic world is expansive, real life keeps things grounded. Life presses in, work, family responsibilities, time running too fast, and that tension shapes the band just as much as their influences. “It sometimes makes the whole thing harder to push forward”, they admit, “but all of life’s happenings form the music of the band and how we wish to express ourselves”.
And they’re not shy about ambition. The next twelve months look ferocious: “We want to issue as many EPs as possible. We have six tracks slowly being recorded. The second album will be present in the first quarter of the year. We would like to have at least two albums next year”.
Their biggest challenge isn’t songwriting. It’s visibility. “An emerging band has to struggle for attention”, they say. “Our music is a bit different than what we did so far, so we need recognition in places that were not present in the past”.
But the band’s spiritual home explains everything. Ask them where they feel most connected and they don’t mention clubs or festivals. They paint a much more honest scene: “We feel in the right place while playing in an old, mouldy basement. Where the true fans are met, where the true struggle is done, where the will is forged”.
That’s Carrion Sky in one sentence. A band built in darkness, fuelled by curiosity, shaped by tension, and committed to turning chaos into something meaningful.
Review: Carrion Sky – “As Our Hearts Devour U”
The album opens with “The Distance Within“, a smooth and eerie intro that feels almost fragile, until the floor gives way. One moment you’re floating, the next you’re hit with a sudden outburst of rage and chaos. It’s the first warning that this record has teeth.
“I Seek Protection” follows, an instrumental piece that feels like the smoke left hanging after the explosion. Quiet, uneasy, a pause that never really lets you rest.
Then “Watch Me Drown” arrives, straight to the point, no patience, no disguise. It’s anger and fear fused together, and just when you think you know where it’s going, the track drops into a mysterious, unsettling break that feels like something watching you from the dark.
“Dredge The Wound” opens slow, mysterious, almost holding its breath. The synths hover in a kind of suspended tension, and the first quiet burst of guitar feels like a signal rather than a riff, a warning that something is moving beneath the surface. The track takes its time, building in small waves until the guitars finally take back the story, pushing everything forward. It grows heavier, more insistent, like a wound being pressed on. There’s hurt here, but also determination
And then the closer: “Lost Among Ourselves“. It opens with a Blade Runner-esque glow, all neon melancholy and drifting shadows. Slowly, steadily, it becomes something of its own. It takes its time, holds its breath, lets the tension simmer. And when that anger finally returns, the anger that threads through the whole album, it feels earned. It feels necessary and It’s worth the wait.